


Make Me A Big Tall Tree

by his



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29228478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/his/pseuds/his
Summary: Peter brings you to a barbecue. You catch Captain America’s attention.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	Make Me A Big Tall Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [CJ’s Twisted Valentine’s Day](https://buckeverlasting.tumblr.com/post/641218860188565504/cjs-twisted-valentines-day-marvel-writing) prompt: _“This is a once in a lifetime situation.”_

Your phone buzzed. It was a message from Peter.

You texted back to let him know which library you were in before turning your attention back to the textbook in front of you. It was always bothersome when the reading wasn’t electronic.

A couple of minutes later, the chair next to you was being manhandled out from under the table and Peter dropped into it.

“So,” he started, “listen.”

Instant wariness settled over you. You recognised that tone. It was the one he always used whenever he wanted to make a proposal.

The last time you heard it, you ended up taking an impromptu road trip to MIT. Neither of you owned a car, so it was five hours by train from Penn Station to Cambridge, then another five hours on the ride back.

Ten hours of your life, gone. Just like that.

“Listen,” Peter said again, oblivious to your suspicion, or, most likely, choosing to ignore it. “Listen, MJ’s busy tomorrow, so I was thinking you should come with me.”

You frowned at him. “Come with you where?”

“Uh, just a family barbecue. Upstate.” Sensing your immediate refusal, Peter sidled up closer to you and his tone took a knowing turn when he added, “Harley’s going to be there.”

You shook your head. “I have a quiz tomorrow.”

That gave him pause. “What time?”

“Opens six,” you answered.

“How long do you have to finish it?” he asked.

“Hundred and twenty minutes.”

Peter blinked. “Well, what time does it close?”

“Six,” you said again.

He psshed. “Twelve hours. That’s plenty of time, dude. You can just do it after we get back. I believe in you. Aunt May’s going to be driving us, anyway.”

You shook your head again, annoyed. “No,” you told him. “I’m not putting it off.”

Peter was undeterred. “C’mon.” He nudged you with his shoulder, cajoling. “Free food, a chauffeur. Don’t tell Aunt May I said that. What more could you ask for?”

“Peace and quiet, maybe,” you muttered, shifting away from him and back to the page you had opened in front of you. Next to you, you felt, more than heard, Peter sigh.

“Fine,” he said. He sounded defeated. He got up from his seat and pushed it back into the table. For a moment, you thought he finally dropped the matter, then he was tacking on, “Pick you up around ten. We’ll just be a little late.”

You stared up at Peter in frustration, but he was already beating a hasty retreat. Before he disappeared around the corner, he turned back and tapped his wrist, mouthing _ten_ at you with an expectant look.

With a long-suffering exhale, you dropped your gaze back down to your reading. You couldn’t remember the last time you went to an actual gathering that wasn’t thrown by other college kids. Family barbecues were bound to be awkward.

Belatedly, you recalled Peter saying once that he had no other family besides his aunt. You tried to remember if he actually said family barbecue. Family friend? You sighed again and put it out of your mind. It was only for a couple of hours. Free food never hurt anybody.

  


* * *

  


The next morning, you woke up late after staying up late studying. You skipped breakfast, too agitated to eat. You read through your notes once, twice, three times, then opened up blackboard and sat through your quiz.

You finished right on the dot, the time stamp reading one hundred and nineteen minutes and forty-three seconds. You had less than twenty seconds to spare. Tremors rocked through your hands, a tell-tale sign of test anxiety. Exams always saddled you with cold sweat and adrenaline jitters.

You wanted to lie down and watch some sitcom. You didn’t want to go to the barbecue. You texted Peter to flake. Less than a minute later, his response had your phone vibrating.

‘We’re already on the way.’ The message was punctuated by the smiling, upside down emoji.

You typed out an irritated reply. ‘I’m not ready.’

‘Then hurry up.’ This time, the emoji was the man tipping his hand.

If Peter was the only one you were inconveniencing, you would have told him to fuck off. But his aunt was the one driving. Disgruntled, you plugged your phone in and dragged yourself to the communal bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, you were sliding into the back seat of an inconspicuous sedan. You apologised to May for the wait, but she just laughed and said, “Wait? We just got here, hon.”

Caught in his lie, Peter shot you a guilty smile from the passenger seat. “I may have exaggerated earlier,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Peter,” May berated. She sounded fondly exasperated.

You gave him the silent treatment for the next ten minutes. Ignoring Peter’s attempts at excuses, May asked after your classes and congratulated you on the internship you just got.

It was a pleasant enough drive, but you would have preferred to stay in your dorm. Assessments always left you drained.

You fell asleep halfway through. The conversation had tapered off into comfortable silence, and the familiar vibrations of tires rolling over gravel under your seat lulled you to sleep.

Peter shook you awake outside an acreage. You opened your eyes blearily and aborted your attempt to straighten up. There was a crick in your neck from sleeping on it wrong, a dull discomfort that hovered on the verge of pain. Just great.

May drove straight past a sign that read ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT OR BE DISINTEGRATED.’ It looked like it was written by a kindergartener. Peter made no mention of it, so you didn’t ask.

The detritus scattered along the forest floor was paved by a long, narrow driveway that led to a lone cabin situated by a lakeside. There were a number of cars parked around the property. May pulled up next to a sleek SUV and killed the engine.

“Whose place is this?” you asked, sitting up sluggishly.

“Uh. Tony,” Peter answered, trying to be vague.

“Tony who?” Suddenly, you had an inkling suspicion. You knew about his side job. “Wait, Stark? Tony Stark?” The answering silence was as good as confirmation. “Dude, what the fu—”

A knock on the window cut you short. You barely had time to register who it was before the car door was being pulled open from the outside.

“That’s not a happy face.”

All you could do was gape stupidly up at Iron Man.

He looked used to it. Well, of course he was. “Struck speechless? I get it. You’re not Michelle Jones,” he said, squinting down at you. “Who are you?”

Stunned, you gave him your name. His expression cleared, much to your surprise, and actually gave way to recognition.

“Oh, I’ve heard a lot about you. All good things,” Tony assured you. “Nice to finally put a face to the name.” Just as quickly, he was turning his attention to May, who was coming around from the driver’s seat. “May, beautiful as ever.”

“Stop it, you,” she replied with a feigned bashfulness. They laughed and kissed each other on the cheek, friendly and familiar.

Peter ushered you out of the car. The celebration was around the other side of the house. Over a dozen people were sitting around in folding chairs or standing around the grill. You recognised most of them. A small group of kids was running around, hooting and giggling.

You dragged your feet, even more nervous at the moment than you were for the interviews you had to sit through. This felt more like a meeting with world leaders than a casual barbecue.

Peter brought you over to meet Pepper Potts. You were surprised by how old she was. You were surprised by how old Iron Man was. The heroes were ageing, slowly but surely encroaching past their prime. It was a strange dissonance.

“Where’s Harley?” Peter wondered.

“I think he went to grab something from the kitchen.” Pepper directed your attention to the food. “Over by the table,” she told you. “You kids help yourself to anything.” Her smile was encouraging.

You quickly scurried over to the snack table. Peter grabbed sodas for both of you and immediately started trying out the assortment of pastries and finger foods. He left you for a second to bring a plate over to May.

Sipping on your Sprite, you cast a timid gaze over the yard. After accidentally meeting Captain America’s eyes, you grimaced and realised that was a bad idea. You felt completely out of your league.

“You must be Peter’s friend.”

The voice made you jump. You hadn’t heard anyone approach. It took you a second to recognise who the guy was. The Winter Soldier was hardly ever seen on camera.

“Sorry.” He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and pretended to be busy looking around. Peter was caught up in a conversation with May and Pepper. You willed him to look your way. His spidey senses quickly picked up your distress.

At the sight of you standing harmlessly next to an Avenger, or whatever Bucky Barnes was, Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he beckoned you over without question. You sagged with relief.

The Winter Soldier was watching you. You’d taken a premature step forward and halted in your tracks.

You pointed lamely in Peter’s direction. “I’m just gonna...”

You felt like you were asking for permission. He gestured with the metal arm, as if to say _be my guest._

Grateful for the escape, you hurried across the lawn. May smiled at you once you reached her side and brought you easily into the conversation.

“We were just telling Pepper about your internship,” she mentioned.

“You’re one of the lucky few,” Pepper commented. “Their New York office only takes in about two or three interns a year.”

Tony appeared out of nowhere and dropped into the empty seat beside his wife. “Whose New York office?” he asked.

“Oscorp,” she said.

The eyebrow that rose was a judgemental one. “Why are we talking about Oscorp?” He turned his eyes on the pair of you. “Who got an internship there?”

“Not me,” Peter said defensively, throwing you under the bus.

Tony appraised you. “You some kind of genius?”

“No,” you answered. “Um. We have a class with Harry. Osborn.” He was a friend.

“We’re all in an elective together,” Peter explained.

“He got you in?” Tony asked.

You nodded.

“Well, you know me.” He turned to Pepper. “Honey, we have a partnership with ESU, don’t we?” At her nod, Tony said, “Great,” and turned back to you. “You doing anything tomorrow?”

“No?” You could hear the question mark at the end of your sentence.

So could Iron Man, apparently, because he raised another eyebrow at you. “You don’t sound so sure. You kids and Valentine’s Day. Maybe Osborn Junior—?”

You shook your head slowly. Harry was nice, and cute, but you were too busy with classes, and your part time job, and now your internship, to even think about dating. Maybe after you graduated...

“Awesome.” Tony’s voice interrupted your train of thought. “Swing by the tower. Say nine-ish? Our HR team would be happy to have you. Better rates, dental benefits, best views in town,” he rattled off. “I haven’t done the sales pitch in a while.”

“Um—” you started.

“Great,” Tony said again, as if you hadn’t spoken. “Done deal. I’ll accept acceptance as thanks.”

“But—”

He cut you off again. “Nope. No take backs. Stark Industries’ll look better on your resume.”

You looked to Peter, wondering what just happened. May patted your hand reassuringly. In a gently chiding tone, Pepper said, “Tony.”

Tony looked unapologetic. “What?”

“Hey.” Captain America drew your attention to him. “Don’t sweat it, kid. You seem like you got a good head on your shoulders.”

You ducked your head, embarrassed.

The Falcon chuckled. “When I was your age, I was just making things up on the go. If you kids got plans for the future—” he raised his beer in your direction, “—you deserve a drink. Take it from a brother.”

You grimaced. You did have plans for the future.

“‘Course you do,” Tony said, as though he hadn’t expected anything else. You wondered what the hell Peter told him. He seemed to have gone into full mentor mode. He waved a hand at you. “Let’s hear it.”

“Um,” you started. “Just graduate. Work.” You shifted uneasily in your seat, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “Uh, start a family.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “A family?” He looked pleasantly surprised. “I thought you Zoomers were all about striking out.”

Peter gave him an odd look. “Dude, no one says Zoomers.”

“I work at a daycare,” you answered.

Pepper’s smile was more genuine than it had been before. “And you’re still not sick of kids?” she asked.

You shook your head.

Since you were a little girl, you knew you wanted a family. A husband, two point five kids, white picket fence. But not yet. You were young. You still wanted your freedom.

A wistful expression crossed Sam Wilson’s face. “Good for you, kid,” he said, shaking his head. “The simple life. What I wouldn’t give for a taste of that, lemme tell you.”

At those words, you saw the group of adults glance over at where the kids were still playing with Hawkeye across the open yard, happy and carefree. Unspoken sentiments filled the silence. It made you feel like you were intruding on a private moment.

Uncomfortable, you exchanged a look with Peter. His expression told you he was actually in the same boat as you, never mind the fact that he was technically one of these guys. Spider-Man was the new generation.

Casually, Tony spoke into the silence. “Stark Industries has a great family plan.”

That was... great? You weren’t sure what that had to do with you.

“Twelve-month paid maternity leave, daycares in most offices,” he went on. “Our educators follow the... is it Montessori?” At Pepper’s nod, Tony shrugged and said, “Worked out for Morgan. Kid’s not half bad.”

“Kid’s not half bad ‘cause the good half comes from the missus,” Happy said, in the driest tone you’d ever heard. You’d met May’s boyfriend a handful of times before.

Tony ignored him in favour of raising an eyebrow at you. “So what do you say, kid?”

You stared dumbly. “Stark Industries has family plans for interns?”

“No, for full-time employees,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Do your internship, get set for life. Done deal.”

The offer overwhelmed you. You were only doing an internship for a couple of college credits. You didn’t even know if you wanted to work for Oscorp.

“I don’t—” you stuttered. “I’m not—” You definitely didn’t want a family any time soon. Not for the next five, maybe not even for the next _ten,_ years.

“Tony,” Captain America cut in, in a voice full of reproach. He turned to you. “Hey. You don’t have to make up your mind just yet. Just go to the interview, see the place— You ever been?”

You shook your head again.

Steve’s smile was wry. “First time I saw it, I thought it was a ginormous piece of crap,” he recalled, then hefted one shoulder in a shrug. “Ended up spending some time there before we got the compound up and running. It’s not half bad.” He gave you a slight smile. “Views are fantastic.”

Peter shrugged when you looked uncertainly to him. “And the dental benefits?” you muttered without thinking, not really expecting to be heard.

This was Captain America, though.

His mouth quirked. He answered you readily enough. “Oh, without equal.”

You smiled a little before dropping your gaze. Your palms were sweating. You didn’t want to be sitting here talking to Captain America. You were always one of those people who never wanted to meet celebrities.

Luckily, the next time you were bringing your drink up to your lips, you found it empty. It gave you an excuse to get away.

Pushing to your feet, you gestured awkwardly with the empty Sprite. “I’m just... A drink,” you said, by way of explanation.

Before you could take another step towards the snack table, a cool can of something was being pressed into your palm, an even colder hand curling your fingers around the drink.

You looked down. It was beer, one of the expensive brands that would never grace the few college parties you could be persuaded to attend.

When you looked back up, you found yourself staring into the Winter Soldier’s eyes.

You took an immediate step backwards. At the same time, you pushed the drink back towards him. “I’m not... Uh, I don’t—”

“Not twenty-one? Don’t drink?” Tony rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand in your direction. “You have my express permission.”

The Falcon snorted. “The Winter Soldier getting you a drink? This is a once in a lifetime situation.”

“One beer won’t hurt you, doll,” Bucky drawled. His hand fell away from yours. You watched him step past you to take the empty seat on the other side of the Falcon.

Reluctantly, you fell back into the chair behind you. The beer was a leaden weight in your hand. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

You ended up drinking too much. The beer went down easily, smoother than anything else you’d ever tried before. Cheap beer was always disgusting.

To avoid conversation, you kept taking small sips, only speaking up to respond whenever someone asked you a question. By the time Harley finally showed up, you were almost through with the can.

“Hey, man,” Peter said. “Where were you?”

Harley sat on the arm of your chair. “Nothing,” he said, even though he looked a little put off. “Just some problem with a group project. Hey.”

“Hey,” you said back. Frowning, you shook the can in your hand when you realised it was empty.

“Here.” Harley handed you his drink. “Peter said you had an exam?”

“Quiz.” You tipped the drink into your mouth without checking what it was, some kind of coffee liqueur. It didn’t taste like there was a lot of alcohol in it.

“Oh, how’d you go?” he asked. He went to MIT. You and Peter were sophomores at Empire State.

“No idea,” you admitted. You felt like you did all right, but you wouldn’t know for sure until the assessment was graded.

Disquieted, you took another gulp of the Cutwater. You wanted to go back to your dorm.

If you were feeling slightly buzzed, you chalked it up to nerves. You’d been feeling jittery ever since you got here.

  


* * *

  


Eventually, the sun went down. People started saying their goodbyes, and the driveway gradually cleared out.

Harley was staying the night, apparently. Tony extended the invitation to May and Peter, and you, by extension. They had to drive you home.

Captain America paused on the way to his car. Your hesitation must have been obvious. “ESU the one in the village?”

“Yeah, near Washington Square,” Peter told him.

Steve glanced over at May. “I can take her.”

You blinked dazedly. Captain America was offering to drive you back to your dorm. If you were less inhibited by everything you had to drink, you might have had the presence of mind to stutter out a token protest.

You really didn’t want to stay the night in Iron Man’s house, though.

“I think she’s drunk,” May said, concerned.

Great. You looked down at the drink in your hand. They’d just kept coming. You really should have gotten something to eat.

Peter checked with you. “You wanna stay or—”

“No.”

Tony snorted at your immediate response. “Got yourself a lightweight, Cap.” His seven year old was dozing in his arms, worn out from running around the whole afternoon.

Peter walked you over to the car. It was an expensive-looking sedan, sleek and black. “One sec.” He left you in the passenger seat. A second later, he was jogging back to your side, holding a bottle of water. “Make sure you drink all that.” He kissed your cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Valentine’s Day was tomorrow. You didn’t bother correcting him.

“Seatbelt,” Captain America reminded you.

You buckled yourself in and the water bottle promptly fell out of your hands. You didn’t even notice. After a pause, Steve reached over to pick it up.

His proximity made the space close in around you. You closed your eyes and wondered if it would be okay to fall asleep. You were technically in a stranger’s car, even if you grew up seeing cartoons of him.

Captain America retreated back to the driver’s side of the car, his arm brushing against your legs as he went. You heard something like the water bottle being placed into a cup holder.

“You can just take me to the train station,” you muttered, forcing your eyelids open. The road was dark, empty. Iron Man lived in the middle of nowhere. “I can take the train.”

Steve was dismissive. “I told ‘em I’d take you home. I’m happy to take you.”

It was too much effort to argue. To be honest, you preferred a ride. It would take less time and less money. You wanted to sleep already.

Quickly tiring of keeping yourself upright, you slumped against the door. Vague silhouettes of trees passed by the car window, rustling in the breeze.

You barely managed to keep your eyes open. Surely the old warning you grew up with about falling asleep in a car with strangers didn’t apply to superheroes.

When you woke up, you were vaguely aware of being carried. Your cheek was resting on someone’s shoulder. You hadn’t been held this way since you were a kid.

Lifting your head sluggishly, you moaned in discomfort at the harsh glare of light that greeted you. What the fuck. You turned away, pinched your eyes shut, buried your face into the warm neck beneath you.

The next time you were coming to, it was to the blessed feeling of a bed underneath you. The lip of a bottle was being pressed to your mouth. “C’mon, doll.” The voice was coaxing. “Finish the bottle. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

Still pretty out of it, you drank in increments until your patient caretaker was satisfied, then you were out like a light.


End file.
